Blame
by Katia-chan
Summary: If we blame ourselves, we feel that others have no right to blame us. Hatori Has never given himself this reprieve, can he face it when he must?


Blame

By Katia-chan

A/N: There is oocness, and there is rambling, lots of both. This started out completely introspective and timeless to mostly introspective and about Hatori and Kana. Don't ask me where it went, or where it's going, because I haven't a clue.

It's a lot more rambly than I had intended, and it's rather pointless, but it's written. That's all I care about. It won't be changed, because things like this, save for a little sentence structure and a dash of spell checking, cannot be rewritten if you are me. So sorry, I know it's rather, well, bleh, but hope you like it anyway!

Reviews will make me write other stuff.

Small key, parenthesis are Kana, slashes are Akito. There isn't much of either, but yall should know.

Dedication: To Windswift and Adi88, both of whom have poked my brain for this and waited patiently while I promised it and never quite got it done on time.

Enjoy!

XXX

Have you ever been responsible for ripping out your own heart?

It was something I never thought I'd have to do. I found out I was wrong, so so wrong.

The room is dark and I'm sitting on the bed. Shigure and Ayame sit next to me, I can hardly see them. There isn't a sound, which if I were paying attention I would find so strange. Aya makes no sound, and Shigure makes no comment, the three of us really aren't in the room. The only parts of us, our only anchors are our hands. They each have one of mine clasped tightly in theirs. The silence is killing me, but I can't stand to break it, and their hands are all that I need. They hold me back from that hole I'm staring into.

Silences never last for long with this group, so it doesn't even surprise me when Ayame breaks this one. "Hari, are you going to be alright?" It's a ridiculous question, one he already knows the answer to. I glance over at him and see his face, it's drawn and tense, and he's giving me that look that only he can. It's a look that says he knows what I'm going to say, a look that says he knows I'm shattering apart, but that he wants to give me an out, he wants me to be able to lie to him, lie to myself.

"Of course I'm going to be alright," I murmur. The words stick in the rusted lump in my throat, it's like torture to bring them out past my mouth, but I do it. I do it and I feel a little better, a little more alive for the effort.

Alive, it's such a joke. I never thought I was dead until now, until I realize that with the countless times I've done this, this is the first time I've ever thought it would kill me, and if I were truly living I should have felt something by now.

"You did what you had to do, for her," Shigure says gently. His voice is soft, comforting. In his words I can obliterate the guilt I feel for the first time in my life. They are lies, and we know it, but they drown out the other words that chase themselves around and around in my head.

(No, it becomes spring!)

I cling to their hands more desperately, echoes whispering in my ears, making it so that I can't believe the lies of my friends, or my own lies. I lie to myself and tell myself that I should be used to this. There should have been guilt with all the other times I've done this, all the lives I've changed or ruined.

But there isn't. This was my duty, my obligation, and while I never relished it, it was never something I saw as a crime.

I erased the memories of Yuki's friends, and I never saw it in any of their faces, never saw the pain. There wasn't any, they were just confused, maybe a little scared. I could look into Yuki's face later without flinching. I saw the hatred and betrayal burning in his face, but I let it happen. If it helped him, he could be angry with me. I wouldn't take away from that by showing remorse that would cheapen his anger. He had earned it as much as I'd earned to receive it. Did I earn this then?

(Falling in love with you is the best thing that's ever happened to me.)

Later, when I had to erase the memory of Momiji's mother, that was different. I felt pity, but not for her. I felt pity for him, for what his life would be like. I never felt guilty for doing what I'd done. I was a souma, I was a member of the zodiac, and this was my duty. Most of my life was devoted to keeping Akito and the other higher-ups in the family happy, in keeping the peace and security we were all so addicted to. If destroying the life of a young boy and giving a weak woman a way out were what it took to do that, then that was what it took. Then as well I let everyone have the emotions they desired. If Momiji needed to hate me for what I'd done to his family, then I saw no reason to deprive him of that one escape. All others had been robbed from him after all. I never expressed hidden guilt, there was none to express.

Now though, now it hurts, and I can feel it stabbing me every time I breathe, every time I think.

The silence has fallen again, but as before it is broken. This time it isn't by Aya though, this time it's a soft knock on the door. I stiffen and my hands go cold. "It might be Akito," Ayame breathes. God don't let it be him, please please. That isn't something I could stand right now, it would be the last . . . it would take me apart where I sit.

/Hatori, you are the frozen snow./

He'd hate to be wrong, hate to see this, and I can't lie to him now, not today. Maybe not for the next few days, maybe never again.

The door opens without anyone saying anything, I know we're all waiting for the soft icy presence, but it isn't Akito. Momiji stands in the doorway, and though he loves them, he ignores Ayame and Shigure, his eyes fix on me.

"Hatori," is all he says. He looks sad. I don't understand why, it's not something he's ever done, but he walks into the room and climbs right onto my lap. This surprises me, Momiji knows, everyone knows that I have very personal space, that only Ayame and Shigure can invade it without being brushed away. He doesn't care though, just climbs up, and we all sit there for a second.

Then I feel the two hands clasping mine slowly release. My own lay limply on the bed, useless like fish. There is stillness again, and I want to scream. I can't stand all the silences, all the pauses, all the waiting. They're waiting for me to shatter, and so am I.

"Did, did it hurt?" I'm shocked, such a forward question, so direct. Momiji looks up into my face and his eyes are full of pity. No, no no, that isn't right, I should never see that there, in his face, not for me, no no no.

"No," I say, forcing the lie between numb lips, because I will not talk about pain with this boy. I could never speak of heartbreak with this orphan who has two living parents. "I did what I had to do to save her, it was my job."

(It would have been better. . . if we'd never met.)

He smiles at me, and it's such a sad smile. To my astonishment, he touches my shoulder. "It did, I know, because I did it to save her too." He isn't talking about Kana, I know that. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, that he's suffered this too, that he sat in some dark room somewhere and hated himself, hated the decision he made, and then felt terrible for thinking that he could sacrifice the woman most important to him for his own happiness. We've both thought the same thoughts, that they should have been stronger, that they were strong and we were just too much to bear, that if we thought about it anymore we'd cave in, collapse.

I don't realize it until after it's done, but my useless fish hands lift off the bed and I wrap my arms around him. I've never done this before, to anyone but Shigure and Ayame. Never done it to my own father even, but I'm doing it now. He snuggles into my chest, a little boy, full of life and vitality, and I know if he didn't sink, then I might not either.

We're all surprised by the first tear. It rolls down my face and falls onto Momiji's head. That's all it takes, one tear. It's followed by more, and more and more. I can't stop crying, and I don't think I want to.

We sit there, my sobs the only noise, and I'm consumed with guilt. Not just sorrow, but regret for what I had to do, pain for the protection I couldn't give. None of the others hate me, they forgive me and I loathe myself, there's nowhere to shelve the guilt, no one else to feel it in my place. This time it's all mine to bear.

But, I think, that maybe that's alright.

Just this once.

The End


End file.
